Aldercy gasped and immediately averted her eyes. Jaythen's noon meal of fish threatened to regurgitate.

"What devil could have done this?" Mr. Barlow growled. He circled the body, studying it. The loss of a good milking cow could be detrimental to a peasant family's income. Even if Jaythen was a noble, he did care about the people below him and never hoped misfortune upon them.

He turned an angry eye to Avalyn—overall shocked that she would have done such a thing. She looked as surprised as the rest of them but Jaythen figured it was an act to maintain innocence and detour suspicion.

He pulled her out of the small group by her upper-arm and led her to the other side of the barn where there was no one to hear them.

"Ow! What was that for?" Avalyn held her arm and glared up at him.

"How could have done something so brutal to these kind people who have let us share their home and bread? I would have thought better of you, Avalyn," he hissed in a chiding, low tone, furious at her—more furious than he thought he could ever be with her.

She looked taken aback at first then matched his glare, "I did not kill that animal."

"If you didn't, then what did? You were gone for at least two hours, and I only assume you had a successful hunt by the way you hardly touched your noon meal."

She shook her head, "I do not know, but it was not me. If you must know, I ate a deer farther up the mountain near the lake. I would not destroy the livelihood of these people just to better my situation. I'm offended you would ever think so little of me."

He swore he saw hurt touch her eyes briefly before she turned on her heel and went back to the others. He shook his head, cursing himself for being so rash and for assuming the worst. However, if she did not kill the cow then something else dangerous was lurking nearby—perhaps event the woman in white. He looked up at the sky—it was still gray and cloudy and there was still moisture in the air despite the absence of rain.

The farm hands helped Mr. Barlow remove the cow carcass beyond the pasture where it wouldn't attract wolves near the living cattle. Jaythen joined Aldercy and Avalyn back in the cottage. Avalyn refused to look at him and of course Aldercy noticed this but was too polite to mention anything.

Mr. Barlow eventually returned at continued smoking his pipe thoughtfully, every so often mumbling to himself how he wondered what had killed his cow.

"So will you depart in the morning? It is much too late to venture out at this time of day and arrive in Griswold before the gates close," Aldercy was already starting dinner.

"Yes, I believe we will. The rain wasn't of much use today," he nodded and glanced at Avalyn. She was helping Aldercy with dinner, chopping vegetables, still having not made eye contact with him since he had falsely accused her.

"I've been glad to have you, most people would be wary of strangers in this village but you two bring a freshness about you. It's nice to see new faces."

"Why are most wary of strangers?" Avalyn wondered as she set out plates. She had gathered all the chopped vegetables in a bowl that Aldercy would use later after she was done heating potatoes in a pot over the fire in the fireplace. She was making a casserole pie of sorts and already Jaythen could imagine the delicious taste.

Aldercy's smile faded, "There was a situation many years ago involving strangers—it was actually quite a mess, and a rather sad tale."

"There aren't any truer words than that," Mr. Barlow added to the conversation. He had been listening intently, despite his mumblings.

"Did it involve that fire at the tin-maker's shop?" Avalyn asked. She must have remembered what the lady had said earlier about Old Gower.

Aldercy nodded and took in a breath, "Twenty years ago—I had a friend. She was a unique character, very fun to play games with and we had been friends since we were young girls. One day a priest arrived from Griswold and tried her for witchcraft. I could hardly believe it, most people couldn't but there was enough evidence against her to condemn her and they left her tied to a stake up by the lake."

"Why? Why didn't they just burn her?" Avalyn asked, apparently having no sympathy for witches.

"Well it was said that a dragon was terrorizing the farmlands in that area and she was to be a sacrifice."

Jaythen saw Avalyn's eyes widen impossibly larger, suddenly very alert and interested in Aldercy's tale at the mention of a dragon.

"Anyhow we thought she'd be taken by the dragon, but three days later she returned in disguise as a boy—if she had a plan for revenge it was thwarted by Gower for he discovered her and then had her tied to the stake in the village square to be burned."

"Then the fire got out of control and caught aflame the tin-maker's shop?" Jaythen finished for her, expecting that to be the reason for the fire.

Aldercy frowned darkly, but it was her husband who answered, "No. The dragon came to save her—she had bewitched it, proving without a doubt that she was a witch. It took her and set most of the village aflame in the process."

Jaythen knew it had to have been the same dragon he had heard the elders of Wendbury talk of that took to terrorizing Griswold all those many years ago. The time frame of events and area of sighting were nearly identical.

"So did she die?" Avalyn asked.

Aldercy shrugged, and again her husband was the one who answered "No. I suppose the witch, Alys is still alive and somewhere within this realm."

Alys? Did he just say ALYS? Jaythen swung around to see if Avalyn had heard the same thing. There was a loud, crashing noise.

He saw that Avalyn had dropped the plates she was setting out. They had broken into many pieces at her feet. Jaythen noted the shock in her eyes, filling them before registering that she had dropped anything. She must have heard the same thing, the witch Alys.

Aldercy looked very concerned for the girl.

"I'm sorry," Avalyn shook her head in a dazed sort of way, with a wavering voice, and bent over to help pick up the pieces, "I'm sorry."

"Oh dear, you've cut yourself!" Aldercy pointed at her hand and they sawblood start to fill in a minor cut from the place where a dish piece had struck her.

Jaythen hopped up then, "I'll help her. I'm so sorry for the mess. I will pay for it."

"No need, it was only an accident," Aldercy was on her knees and gathering up bits of shard into her apron.

Jaythen reached out to Avalyn but she tore away from him, and out the front door. He sighed and followed her after giving an apologetic look to the Barlows.

She broke into a sprint as soon as she was outside. He cursed and grabbed his sword which he had left under the small wheelbarrow in front of the house. It certainly wasn't safe out there and Avalyn was running off into it somewhere. She darted across the pasture and he picked up speed to keep up with her, going after her like always and not knowing for the life of him what she was planning to do.

She pushed through a bundle of bushes on the far side of the pasture, surrounded by trees. It was growing darker by the second as evening became nightfall and he pressed through the vegetation trying to catch a glimpse of where she might have gone. She had gone no further though. She was bent over, seeming to be in pain—using the base of a near tree to support herself.

He stood behind her for a moment, trying to discern what she was doing. The cut shouldn't have hurt her; it was far shallower than his slice from before. She turned her head to look at him and he could make out tears. She was crying. He had never seen her cry before, even in moments of extreme pain or sadness.

She slid down to the ground, finally collapsing—bringing her knees up and burying her head into her hands. She made audible sobs of misery that tore at his insides.

He approached her carefully, stepping lightly as though she were a wild animal that could be frightened away at the slightest sound. He set his sword against the tree and he too, sat to the ground, just next to her and put his arms around her to console her. She didn't even protest his move or try to fight him. Instead, she flung her arms around his neck and fully moved herself into his torso—clinging to him as if he was the last source of comfort in her world. He laid his chin over her shoulder, realizing that she was experiencing a hurt so deep, he could never fathom it.

"A witch, my mother is a witch," she barely whispered after crying her voice ragged. Her tone was a combination of disbelief and anger.

He couldn't disagree. After all, Marv had said that Alys was from the mountains, and it wasn't a common name as far as names went. He had no doubt that the Alys Mr. Barlow had mentioned was the same woman as Avalyn's mother. He held her tight as she continued to sob all of her disappointments into the neck of his shirt.

He wished he could have said anything to make her feel better, but finding out that her mother was of the same variety of thing that had tried to kill her nearly two weeks prior was a staggering revelation and wasn't without its torrid pricks of betrayal.

They sat that way for a few moments and Jaythen took her hand and felt for where the cut should have been—it was already healed. Was that a dragon thing—healing unnaturally fast? Though, she did have a scar from Halden's arrows—which proved that she wasn't fully invincible. He peered down at her, and saw her vulnerability as she pressed her head against him with her eyes closed, body trembling and often sniffling through her dwindling tears. He heard a noise and she did too—they broke apart and stood, waiting for whatever was on the other side of the bushes.

Out of the darkness came a figure. Jaythen grabbed his sword abruptly and held it out—the hair rising on his neck.

"Drop your sword, or I will break it," came the smooth, confidant voice of the figure—a youth no older than Jaythen. It was the adolescent that he had seen just beyond the pasture the other night, he was sure of it. Jaythen did not drop the weapon but lowered it slightly at the young man's tone of voice, doubtfully. Had he been eavesdropping?

"What is your business with us?"

"My business is with her," he gestured toward Avalyn, standing just behind Jaythen.

"Me?" she wiped her face of tears and held out her chin, on guard—ready to change if he meant her harm.

The youth brushed past Jaythen and stood in front of Avalyn with a serious frown, "I know what you are."

"How?"

"There has been talk, spreading like wildfire across the countryside about a girl turning dragon. You should know it was rather stupid of you to reveal yourself in Scharberlutes, a place clawing with witches. As we speak, they hunt you and it is only by luck you are here."

My luck, Jaythen mentally noted as he thought of the luck potion he had recently consumed.

He hadn't answered her question, and he only insulted her. She frowned and had no trouble duplicating his patronizing tone, "Yes, I realize I am being hunted, by a witch no less. What about you? If you know what I am, then I suppose you mean to kill me as well?"

His eyes narrowed, and his head tilted to study her—considering her, and searching for something. Then he seemed to realize what he had missed and he didn't look like the sort of fellow to ever miss a detail.

"You are of half—you unfortunate creature. No wonder."

"What? What does that mean?"

"It means that you were conceived by a human and a creature of fey. It is rare but possible. You hold all the beauty and charm, and limited advantages of fey but all the imperfections of a human. Your blood does not mix properly and so when you reach of adult age, you will have to choose. You must be prepared to decide between a human or fey existence or else your body will destroy itself from lack of purpose. You're a living contradiction."

Avalyn's face filled with a horrified expression, hardly believing the fact.

"Why are witches hunting me for my parts?"

"No. They hunt you for your blood."

"My blood?"

Jaythen remembered the near desperate look on the white witch's face as she reached toward the stream of blood on Avalyn the night in the barn. He believed.

"Witches have always hunted fey creatures for their blood. They drink it to become powerful and beautiful, since they are only humans."

What the youth had said was shocking. She would have never known—and Alys could not have told her and have expected her to understand at such a young age. So the girl with green eyes must have been sired by a fey creature, for Alys was a human—a witch that had somehow, fallen in love with a dragon and Avalyn was the freakish result of the unnatural union. Cursed to be half until she chose one or the other.

"But if I am not truly fey, then what good would it do to kill me for my blood?"

The youth considered her question and finally sighed, "Pure fey blood will only give a witch power and beauty that fades over time—because fey blood cannot mix with human blood. However there was a witches prophecy that foretold that the blood from a being born of half would grant power and beauty everlasting to the witch that consumed it." He leaned closer, "You're blood is by far the most valuable in the world—and they will not stop seeking you until their chalices are stained red."

Avalyn's eyes still held their horror. She habitually grabbed her amulet for comfort—suddenly feeling the need to sit. Jaythen watched intently, making sure the handsome young man made no sly or threatening movements for the girl. The youth's eyes landed on the amulet and all at once the calm in his eyes erupted. He reached forward and grabbed the amulet from her fingers—staring at it, nearly jerking her neck forward.

"Where did you get this amulet?"

Avalyn tried tugging away but he held firm, wanting for an answer. Jaythen stepped forward, "Let her go if you value your life."

The youth's eyes turned towards Jaythen—regarding him as bothersome—but otherwise did not heed his threat nor comply.

"My mother gave it to me! Let go!"

He did so—but they could see he had only let go because he was good and ready.

He studied her very carefully—something changing in his cold stare—to something Jaythen couldn't place to a human emotion, "What is your name?"

"Avalyn."

"Avalyn," He repeated, paused—"And who is your mother?"

"A lady I seek, a witch, her name is Alys."

The youth closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. "Alys?" he repeated again, voice suddenly flat and cold.

"Yes."

"She is your—mother?"

"Yes, why are you so concerned?"

As the youth's eyes caught moonlight from looking at anything but Avalyn, Jaythen swore he saw—or thought he saw a hint of violet. He shook his head, he was getting sleepy and his own eyes were playing tricks on him.

"You say you seek her. What does that mean? Did you get separated?" the youth's tone seemed adamant on knowing, odd, for being a complete stranger.

"It means that she abandoned me when I was very young, and I want to know why."

A flicker of anger or some silent rage crossed through his eyes, but only Avalyn was quick enough to notice. "Do you know my mother?"

He didn't say anything for a moment and then looked at the sky, "I thought I did."

Jaythen heard his mumbled remark and wondered what he had meant by those words. Also, how could a boy their age have known Alys? Had they met in her travels? Recently? He sounded as though he had known her for ages.

"And I thought I could find her, but I discovered she was a witch. I don't know if I even want to find her anymore."

"She is not a witch—and I know where she is."

"What? How?!" Avalyn was amazed and doubtful all at once, looking fierce and ready to pummel the youth with her bare hands if he didn't explain himself.

"She was falsely tried and accused by a corrupt inquisitor. I know she is not a witch."

"She tamed a dragon!"

His stare grew hard, "Yet the dragon couldn't tame her."

Avalyn shook her head at his nonsense and pushed his shoulder in anger, "Where is she?"

"If I tell you where, you must bring her back."

Avalyn looked at Jaythen, baffled at his demand.

"Why?"

"You are the only one who can convince her to return."

"Return from where?"

"The Evening Isles."

"How do you know she is in the Isles?"

"Because she is not in this realm or any other."

The girl and young lord exchanged puzzled looks at the youth's cryptic answer. How did he know so much, should they even take his word for it?

"How will I convince her to return?"

"Tell her that 'Selendrile' wishes to speak with her, and she will return," he paused to think further and nodded, "Yes, she will return if you tell her that."

"Why don't you just go to her and be the messenger boy? Why send me?" Avalyn became indignant and stood against the lad. He smiled at her, it was a chilly smile and then he extracted a small bag from his jacket and set it in Avalyn's hands.

"Because as I said, you are the only one who can convince her to return, you are her daughter."

Avalyn opened the pouch and gasped at seeing a large sum of gold.

"This isn't a trap?" Jaythen demanded with question.

The lad widened his eyes slightly to convey innocence but Jaythen could tell it was a false, sly act—Halden was very good at such portrayals. "No. The money is for your travel expenses."

Jaythen decided then that he didn't trust the lad's intentions at all. They would go to the Evening Isles in search of Avalyn's mother—but he would be wary every second of the journey, for not only did the Isles contain the peculiar mother but also his first love, Nicolette.

They started on their way back toward the Barlow cottage. Avalyn was already ahead of him, but before Jaythen took a few steps, he felt a surprisingly hard grip on his shoulder, "Do not let any harm befall that girl if you value your life."

By what right did that youth have to threaten Jaythen over the well-being of Avalyn? They had all just met and it wasn't the friendliest of encounters. Jaythen did not trust this conniving youth, and opened his mouth to tell him so—but stopped.

He couldn't convince himself otherwise any longer—for the youth's eyes were a cold, hard, and dangerous display of what could have been the jewel set in Avalyn's amulet.

He snapped his mouth shut and nodded in acquiescence, "No harm shall come to her."

He wasn't promising her safety on the youth's behalf, he was promising himself because he still felt the horrible twists of guilt in his chest at hurting her before—and would not let it happen again.

So, you will be pleased that this was a double shot--a double shot of drama! I had to break it up into two chapters because it was at 13 pages, and that's a kind of length I leave for final chapters if ever. Again, feel free to drop a line and tell me what you thought.